“You’d best enjoy yourself,” Gemma continued. “I’ve little doubt Mama will be over soon insisting that you and Meredith go to bed.” They all knew Mama had been counting the days until a grandson could be born.
Griffin’s eyes widened. “What do you know of it, poppet?” he asked, watching her from the corner of his eye.
“Enough to know you’ll be in trouble if there isn’t an heir to the dukedom born in precisely nine months,” Gemma replied. Oh, she already knew all about what happened between a man and a woman in bed. She’d overheard Mama’s whist-playing, wine-drinking lady friends talk about such things when they thought she was abed. But the real education had come from Meredith. Meredith had grown up without a mother and had apparently been woefully ignorant of how such things worked. She’d sat Gemma down last Season to ensure she was fully educated in what went on between a couple in the bedchamber.
Honestly, from what Gemma had heard, the entire act seemed slightly ridiculous. But she wasn’t the one getting married tonight. She had ages before she would have to worry about such things. Not only was she in no rush to marry, but she also hardly expected to be asked until she finally blossomed, which, according to Mama, might well be another entireyearfrom now, if not longer.
Which was why Gemma was so set on helping the other young ladies. As the sister of a duke and a lady in possession of a large dowry, she would have no issue procuring an offer of marriageeventually, even if she ended up being only half as lovely as Mama. But the other poor wallflowers, some of whose families were counting on them to make a good match, shouldn’t have to endure Mary’s machinations. Hence Gemma’s search for Grovemont in order to ask him to dance.
She cleared her throat. She needed to sound entirely indifferent. “By the by, Griff, you haven’t happened to see the Duke of Grovemont recently, have you?”
Griffin’s brows shot up. “Grovemont? Why are you looking forhim?”
“Oh, one of the girls was asking after him,” Gemma said, waving her hand in the air as if the matter was nothing of import.
After her staunch defense of the wallflowers last Season, both Griffin and Meredith were well aware of Gemma’s penchant for looking out for the other girls. Griff would have no problem believing she was only searching for Grovemont because one of the wallflowers had asked. Besides, Griff and Mere tended to treat her like a young girl at times, fussing over her choices and reminding her to be patient. She was a woman of nineteen years old now. They needn’t worry about her any longer. Of course, Gemma had no intention of telling her brother that she planned to ask Grovemont to dance in order to keep Mary from actinglike a termagant at his wedding ball. Griffin shouldn’t worry about a thing save enjoying himself tonight.
Griffin lifted his champagne glass to his lips and frowned. “Now that I think of it, seems to me Grovemontmaybe in my study. Earlier he asked if he might use it for a bit.”
“Oh, well then. I’ll have to let my friend know,” Gemma replied, trying to seem a bit sorry to hear the news. Of course, undernormalcircumstances, a young lady couldn’t go searching for a bachelor alone in a study. That would be scandalous. But what Griffin (and everyone else) didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him. And Gemma had every intention of getting her task over with as quickly as possible. After all, who knew if Grovemont intended to return to the ballroom tonight?
But how would she prove she’d asked him to dance? Hmm. Either Mary would have to take her word for it, or she would have to catch Mary’s eye and get her to follow Gemma to the study.
Meredith returned to the table just then and after greeting Gemma with a big hug, the bride asked her new husband to dance with her. Which gave Gemma precisely the opening she needed to go in search of Grovemont.
Waving at the happy couple as they took to the dance floor, Gemma made her way to one of the ballroom’s side doors. Just before she slipped through it, she glanced around to ensure Mary was watching.
Gemma needn’t have worried. The girl’s bright eyes were fixed on her. Excellent. Mary could follow and see for herself. That would be best. Gemma tipped her head toward the corridor and nodded meaningfully before disappearing through the door. Even a fool like Mary had to have understood her meaning.
O
CHAPTER FOUR
Lucian Banks, the Duke of Grovemont, had been reclining in a large, leather chair in Southbury’s study for the better part of half an hour. He was enjoying some of Southbury’s finest brandy. Alone. Nearly in the dark. Which was his preferred company lately. Tonight was one of the first times he’d ventured back into Society since his mother’s death last summer.
The previous nine months still seemed completely unreal to Lucian. He’d loved his mother fiercely. Discovering she’d become unexpectedly ill with a weak heart had been a blow. Her untimely death was something from which he would not soon recover.
Lucian had never cared much for Society events, and this Season he cared even less. His mother had adored all the parties and dinners and dancing andfêtes. He smiled wryly. She would have loved it here tonight.
Mama and Griffin Brooks’s mother, the recently made dowager Duchess of Southbury, had been thick as thieves. And Lucian was a friend to both Southbury and his new brother-in-law, the Marquess of Trentham. Which was the only reason Lucian was here tonight. To wish his friend and his new bridewell. He was happy for Southbury. And the man was obviously in love.
Lucian settled back into the chair and expelled his breath. Soon, he would have to do the same thing Southbury had done—take a wife. For on his mother’s deathbed, Lucian hadpromisedher that he would, indeed, finally find a wife and settle down. He would produce the Grovemont heir as she’d always wanted. He only wished his mother would be here. Not only to meet the young lady of his choosing, but also to meet his future son. He swallowed hard. Damn. It hurt to even have that thought.Mama would never meet her grandson. His chest tightened.
Lucian tossed back the rest of the brandy in the glass. It was his own fault for waiting so long to marry. He was thirty years old already. And no amount of brandy would turn back the clock. He would have to live with that regret the rest of his days.
Frankly, he’d arrived here tonight with the intention of taking a closer look at this year’s crop of debutantes. He’d gone to a few parties earlier in the Season with the same inclination. But most of the young ladies were huddled together against the wall. Having avoided it like the pox for most of his adult life, Lucian didn’t know much about the marriage mart, but he knew enough from Mama’s stories to know that one didn’t look for one’s wife among the wallflowers.
Tonight, he’d arrived to find the same confounding situation. Almost all the young ladies were packed together against the far wall like a herd of frightened sheep. Even at Southbury’s wedding ball. So odd. Lucian had glanced over the lot of them, only to find there was nary a one who caught his interest. They all seemed like a timid lot, not making eye contact with him and outright shying away when he’d strode near them to get a better look. Was hethatintimidating? Lord save him from simpering maidens. He preferred a young woman who’d look him in the eye at the very least. Was that too much to hope for?
There had been only one young lady—one with blond hair and a pinched face—who had stared at himso pointedlyhe’d been loath to glance in her direction again. Something about her determined look made him hie off in the opposite direction. Quickly.
The bridal prospects were not particularly promising. Which was why he’d taken his leave of the cacophony in the ballroom to enjoy a drink in the quiet of Southbury’s study.
Lucian scrubbed a hand through his hair. Should he pour himself another brandy? Probably not. He’d been poor enough company tonight as it was. He didn’t need to add being a drunkard. He should simply wish his friend Southbury well once more and go home. He lived just around the corner. It would be a short walk.
Lucian stood and expelled his breath again. His mission to find a wife this Season would not be a particularly pleasant one. But he would go about it in a logical manner. The same way he did everything. He’d put together a mental list of the most promising unmarried ladies, pay a call on each of them, and see which was the least uninteresting and most pleasing to look at. Because most of them seemed uninteresting, honestly. His wife might as well be beautiful. Beautifulandinteresting seemed far too much to hope for, given the ladies he’d seen to date. He shuddered to think of a lifetime leg-shackled to a woman who couldn’t carry on an intelligent conversation with him. How had Southbury managed to find Meredith? Had his friend succeeded in marrying thelastbeautiful, interesting lady in theton? A depressing thought, that.
At any rate, there would be plenty of time over the remainder of the Season to pick through the debutantes for the least skittish, best-looking one of the lot. Though he did not relish the task. Tonight, however, it was time to take his leave.
